Mal Hargreaves at Hogwarts
by kincubba
Summary: A lot took place within the walls of Hogwarts, especially during Potter's years there. Malcolm Hargreaves (known as 'Mal') is a timid boy who walks into Hogwarts and tries to go about it quietly and quickly, but he soon not only finds out that adventure follows him, but that Potter's own adventures downplay his. This is a joint project between Kincubba and Terra Booma.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, my name is Malcolm Hargreaves, but most people call me Mal. It means 'bad' in French, and the name suites me, because of my poor luck. I'm the middle child in a pure-blood family, but you wouldn't know it. Both of my parents are super interested in muggles, and they find them to be the most fascinating people in the world, so much so that they were disappointed the day I displayed magical abilities. They were hoping that my siblings and I would turn out to be squibs so that they could send us away to a muggle school to be taught muggle things.

To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure what to think when I received my letter of acceptance from Hogwarts. First amount of good luck that I had received in months, and it frightened me. It had happened while my parents were having my Uncle Finley for dinner.

It was a perfectly normal, muggle meal and my Uncle Finley hated it. He hated my parent's obsession with muggles and what they did, mostly because it was rather annoying. It was always muggle this or muggle that. In fact, that was the whole topic at the dinner table, until an owl flew in carrying the letter. The Tawny owl landed right in front of me and dropped it right into my salad, ruining the envelope.

Sighing and muttering to myself while Uncle Finley laughed like crazy, I opened it to find the letter inside, which read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Hargreaves,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Withcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

I wasn't sure how to respond. Uncle Finley was laughing at my parents' stunned expressions. My older sister, Kimberly, was congratulating me on making the school. My parents were sitting there, trying their best to hide their disappointment, while my younger brother, Owen, looked around trying to discern what happened.

The dinner ended pretty quickly after that, with Uncle Finley leaving with a huge grin on his face and a chuckle. I could tell that the eyes of my mother were following me around the house, as I got ready for bed.

* * *

The next day I woke up and went downstairs to find my mother silently staring out the window, cup of tea in hand. She was reading a copy of a muggle newspaper, with the headlines, 'Snake Mysteriously Escapes Zoo. Zoo Director Baffled as Glass Disappears Without so much as a Shard of it Found,' and a copy of the Daily Prophet. I automatically assumed that dad went off to work, and that neither Owen nor Kimberly was awake. I took a seat next to her and she looked over at me.

"You're upset with me, aren't you?" I asked.

"Slightly, but not because it's your fault, but because I got my hopes too high," she replied.

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant.

"I wanted you to be exactly what I wanted, but that was selfish of me. I now think you need to be able to choose for yourself. I just didn't want to lose you."

I thought it over, right then and there. She wanted me to go to a muggle school, where I would be back at home every once in a while. Somewhere where she could keep an eye on me and make sure I was doing all right. Kimberly always did seem to come home every so often shining brighter than normal though. She seemed to have a really good time at Hogwarts.

Not feeling very sure of myself, I looked her in the eye and said, "Yes, I want to go."

"Alright then, Mal, do us proud," my mother replied, pulling a small letter out from under her newspapers and handing it to the tawny owl that sat next to her. Quietly, she whispered, "Hogwarts," to the owl, and off it went.

After watching it disappear, she leaned in to me and gave me a big hug. "You'll have fun there, I know I did."

"Then, why did you want me to go to a muggle school?" I asked.

"Because, the muggle world is so fascinating!" I sort of tuned out when she began talking about the many 'interesting' things that the muggle world had to offer. I was too busy worrying about the new magical world I was about to step into.


	2. Chapter 2

I guess I never mentioned when I demonstrated that I wasn't a squib. I was six. My parents had taken my family to the beach, along with my Uncle Finley. Nothing unusual happened at all until Uncle Finley accidently pushed me off a boardwalk into deep water. I had never learned how to swim, but when my parents dove underwater to rescue me, they were surprised to find me sitting at the bottom of the ocean, surrounded by a pocket of air.

I felt trapped and alone, just like I do now. I'm standing in King's Cross Station, wondering how to get to platform nine-and-three-quarters. Both of my parents had a very busy day ahead of them, so they couldn't take us to the station. Kimberly and I had ridden there by the London Underground, with our trunks and owls. I was surprised nothing was stolen.

Several days before, we had gone to Diagon alley to purchase my school supplies. Stepping into the threshold from the Leaky Cauldron, my mother muttered, "It has been a while." After getting a wand, robes and a cauldron, my mother thought it was best to visit Eeylops Owl Emporium. I walked out with a new Barn owl, named Brittle.

Brittle screeched at me, gesturing with its nose to the clock. 10:50. I was going to be late. Kimberly, being her usual trickster self, had run ahead of me and had found whatever secret passage led to platform nine-and-three-quarters.

Sighing, I rested my head in my hands, just as a family of red heads walked passed. Noticing their use of the word 'muggles' I decided to follow them, only to find out that they had disappeared.

I told myself that I was in the right place. This family of magicians had just disappeared. I looked around, and leaned up against a wall, to think for a moment.

I was surprised to find out that the wall wasn't solid, and I fell through, leaving Brittle and my trunks on the other side. Looking up, I saw several people, including Kimberly looking down on me and laughing. My face grew slightly red, and a few of the other girls backed away, mostly because it wasn't the only thing that turned red.

Ah, yes. You might be wondering what I mean. Ever since I fell off that boardwalk when I was six, my hair colour changed every so often. My parents think I dye it differently everyday, because of the long amounts of time I spend inside the house. The truth is, I don't. It changes on it's own, and right now, it flashed red when I felt angry.

Kimberly thinks it is an extremely powerful curse or charm that someone put on me, but I don't remember it happening.

I got back up, just as Kimberly looked at me with a bit of confusion. She went back through the wall with me to help me get my stuff, and sat me down in a compartment on board the scarlet Hogwarts Express. She got up and continued walking out, before I stopped her, tugging on her black and blue robes. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going off to sit with my friends, I suggest you find yourself some," she replied as she shut the door on my compartment. She turned on her heel and disappeared, with a flash of her orange hair trailing behind her.

Kimberly was a Ravenclaw in her third year, something she bragged about a lot. She was an odd one, always coming up with brilliant and crazy ideas, like the time she wrote up an entire family contract when we couldn't get along.

So, I waited and waited. A few passed, looked into my compartment and kept walking. Most of them were clearly older years that wanted to avoid the first year. At 11:00, the train started getting under way, and I was starting to get worried that I would spend the entire trip alone. Most of the other kids were hanging out of their window, waving to their parents and relatives. Not me. I was quietly sitting, trying to tell myself not to be frightened of the trip ahead or the destination.

Suddenly, the door opened and a white haired kid walked in, slamming the door shut as the red haired kid from the platform tried to get in. The red haired kid shrugged and moved on to find a different compartment.

The new kid put his luggage on the rack and took a seat opposite to him. I was too shy to say anything, not to mention how intimidating he looked. I could tell right off the bat that that white hair wasn't natural.

"It is," the boy said.

I stared at him in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"You were wondering if my hair is natural or not. It is," the boy replied.

"May I ask how?"

"Nope."

I decided to leave it at that, sinking back into my seat, wondering if he was a telepath. He seemed to be content with staring out the window as fields and forests passed by.

I eventually worked up the courage to say, "Malcolm Hargreaves."

"Hmm?" he looked up.

"That's my name," I replied rather timidly.

The boy grinned and replied, "Allen Rhodes."

I was about to reply to that, when someone slammed into the compartment, scaring the living daylights out of me. It opened and he slid into the compartment, before being pushed in by a real mean looking blonde kid who walked passed. The knocked-over kid stood up and shouted down the hall, "I'd like to see you do that again Malfoy!"

He quickly shut the door and locked it. Turning to both of us, he waved politely and said, "Hi! You don't mind if I hang out here for the trip. I don't want to run into Malfoy again."

He seemed like a nice person, so I looked to Allen for approval. He nodded and then I nodded back at the new comer.

"Excellent!" he shouted, throwing his stuff on to the luggage rack and sitting next to me. "The names Gastan. Grayson Gastan."

"Malcolm Hargreaves," I replied politely.

"Allen," Allen introduced himself, as he leaned up against the window.

Grayson seemed to be in the wrong crowd. He was interested in talking. I was too shy to say anything and Allen just seemed like he didn't want to. "You hear? Harry Potter is on the train!" he exclaimed.

This seemed to perk Allen's interest, who looked up from the window for a moment to confirm Grayson's words. Grayson nodded.

I looked at both of them in confusion. Both of them knew something I didn't. Before I looked anymore stupid later on, I decided to break the ice, "Who's Harry Potter?"

Grayson looked at me with a confused expression, while Allen merely chuckled.

"What?" I asked.

"Harry Potter is only one of the most famous people alive today! How do you not know him?" he replied. I was slightly taken aback. "It doesn't matter, all that I can say was that he's the reason that some of us are still alive today. It was said that the you-know-who went to go kill him and his parents, but something happened that night. For some reason, you-know-who died. No one is sure why, but it can be said that whoever you-know-who decided to kill ended up dead, except for Potter."

I sunk back into my seat, wondering what it meant. All this talk of wizarding wars confused me, mostly because I grew up with eccentric parents. I decided not to indulge them in that just yet.

Suddenly, Allen perked up, looking at something above me and shouting at me, "Are you trying to mock me?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your hair! It just turned white!" he replied. Looking at my reflection in the glass, I confirmed it; it was as white as his.


	3. Chapter 3

I spent most of the train trying to explain my hair situation with Allen and Grayson, both of whom looked at me like I was nuts. Like Kimberly, Grayson suggested a powerful curse or charm. When he mentioned that, I got frustrated, mostly because I've heard that explanation before, and I highly doubt it.

Allen offered no explanation, just remaining quiet for most of the trip. The train passed fields, a viaduct and through the beautiful highland landscape of Scotland.

About halfway there, a pleasant old lady wheeling an empty cart passed. Grayson stood up and asked if she had anything left. She shook her head, and said, "No. Some lad down the corridor and his friend bought the lot. Sorry, dears."

As she left, Grayson sat down in disappointment. He decided to start changing into his school robes, all the while muttering how his older brother had promised that there would be sweets on the train.

I wasn't too disappointed, I mean, I didn't even expect to buy food on the train. I had packed a lunch. Plus, Kimberly suggested holding off on food, because she mentioned something about a start-of-term feast.

I started to nibble on my sandwich, only to see Allen get up and changed it his own standard, colourless Hogwarts outfit. Judging from Allen's character, I decided we must have been getting close to the school, so I did the same. I had assumed correctly, because in no time at all, an overhead voice echoed, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Grayson and Allen both remained still as I covered one of my cases with stickers that read 'fragile.'

"What are you doing?" Grayson asked, sounding as if I had done something overly ridiculous.

"Just making sure this case is handled with care," I replied with a weak smile.

"What's so special about that case?"

"It's nothing. I'm just very conscious about things like this."

To make myself more believable, I stuck more 'fragile' stickers on all of my trunks and cases, even putting one on Brittle's cage. I sat back down and waited as the train came to a complete stop before getting up and making my way out of the train and onto the crowded platform. I almost died of fright upon seeing the person who was leading the first years away. He was a hairy and large, who towered over all of the students.

He didn't introduce himself, only calling for the first years to follow him, which I took as a sign that he was good.

The tall stranger led us down to a little dock, where a small fleet of boats was docked. He shouted, "No more'n four to a boat!"

I quickly got in to one of the far boats with Allen, Grayson and a girl, who I had not met yet. I watched as everyone loaded themselves into the boats, by fours, and we took off, powered by magic, turning a bend and gazing at the stunning castle ahead of us. It's many turrets and pointed roofs.

We had all entered an underground harbor where all the boats were docked, and we exited.

Now, by then, I had only eaten only a few nibbles out of my packed sandwich, which I had shoved into the pocket of my jeans, which I had put back into my trunk when I changed. I was starving and my stomach was making all sorts of weird sounds and noises. I think I might've caught the attention of the blonde kid that Grayson was shouting to before, Malfoy I think his name was. He kept looking back at me and sneering.

Grayson tapped me on the shoulder and said, "You might want to fix that." He was pointing to my hair, which had turned red in embarrassment.

Thankful that he didn't notice, I concentrated my thoughts on turning my hair back to black. It took a lot of effort, and I had only managed to turn it into an extremely dark reddish-brown, according to Grayson.

"That'll do," he said reassuringly, "People will just think it's the lighting."

I hoped so. According to Kimberly, there was a huge ceremony, which involved standing up in front of the entire school. What did she call it? Whatever it was, I hoped I wouldn't make a fool out of myself in it. I had only just got here, after all.

The tall stranger had led us inside and introduced us to a very stern looking lady, who he called 'Professor McGonagall.' So this was the lady from the acceptance letter.

The tall stranger, who she identified as Hagrid had left us, and now she was leading us to the Entrance Hall, where she stopped and addressed us all. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting ceremony is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts."

So it was called the Sorting Ceremony. That was what Kimberly had called it.

I tried paying attention to McGonagall, but the bits of sandwich I had earlier weren't cutting it, and my stomach was rumbling extremely loudly. I could see Grayson trying his best not to laugh, and several others moving away from me.

Something about four houses, house points, yeah, yeah ,yeah. I think I understand. She left for a moment to go check to see if everyone in the hall was ready for us, by which time I was dying for something to eat.

Ahead of Grayson, Allen and I, that boy Malfoy had shouted, "So, it's true, what they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts!"

A quiet murmur broke out in the crowd of first-years, especially near the front, where Malfoy was standing next to the boy he was obviously addressing. All I could see was a small puff of hair.

There seemed to be a small incident breaking out there, but I wasn't paying attention. My attention was still drawn to my stomach. Grayson seemed to notice as he started tapping me discreetly on the hand.

"What?" I whispered.

Without glancing at me, he put a chocolate frog in my hand. "You seem to need it more than I do," he said.

"Thanks," I almost shouted as I quietly popped it in my mouth. McGonagall had returned and was leading us into the Great Hall.

Inside was a massive room with four long tables, which led to a head table at the front of the room. Students were all lined up along these tables, and at the head table, sat what appeared to be our teachers for the year. Great windows surrounded the Great Hall and the ceiling had been bewitched to look like the night sky, appearing to me as if there wasn't really a ceiling.

I soon grew extremely nervous as hundreds of pairs of eyes followed us from the entrance to the head of the room, where a mangy, old hat sat on a stool.

As I walked in, I saw Kimberly wave gently towards me.

McGonagall lifted the hat and unraveled a scroll that sat next to the hat. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she commanded.

She started with 'Abbott, Hannah,' of whom the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The young, blonde girl stood up and walked over to the table that was cheering the loudest. Easy, right?

Butterflies flew through my belly as we passed the b's, which were replaced with shear terror when McGonagall called out, "Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

Once Justin had left to walk over to the Hufflepuff table, McGonagall called out, "Gastan, Grayson."

As he went up, he whispered into my ear, "Your hair is turning green." I immediately began ruffling my hair in frustration that I couldn't get it to change.

McGonagall placed the dirty hat on Grayson's shaggy blonde hair, and in no time at all, it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!" As he walked off to the appropriate table, he gave me a thumbs up, which I replied with a small wave and smile.

Granger, Hermione was called next, and she was placed into Gryffindor house. I was next. I could tell.

Just as I had expected, the next name on the list was, "Hargreaves, Malcolm." I nervously walked up to the stool and sat down, passively wrapping my legs around the legs of the stool. The only thoughts in my mind were to stop my hair from changing. I didn't need that to happen.

Looking across the room to Grayson, I could see him with another thumbs up, signaling to me that my hair was, in fact, remaining normal.

McGonagall placed the hat on my head and it began to hum as it decided what to do with me. After a while, it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!" and a cheer erupted on the table that Grayson was sitting at.

I stood up as fast as I could and forgot that my legs were still wrapped around the legs of the stool. I fell down, knocking the stool over as the whole hall erupted into laughter.

My face turned bright red and my expression changed to a weak smile. I stood up and ran over to the Ravenclaw table as fast as I could, holding my hands over my head while I did that. To others, it seemed like I had hurt my head during the fall, but it was really to stop people from seeing a breach of colour on my way out.

I sat down next to Grayson, who was trying to move my robed hands away from my hair as he said, "Let me see, let me see."

Eventually, he managed to coax my hands away from my head, which he had looked at and said reassuringly, "It's fine."

I nodded thankfully. This 'condition' I had was becoming more of a nuisance than I had once thought, and the worst part, I didn't even know the name of it!

Apparently, I wasn't the biggest fool at the ceremony today. A boy named Neville Longbottom had ran off with the hat still on his head once the name had been called.

More and more names were being called off and the group of first years that had assembled was getting smaller and smaller. Malfoy was a Slytherin. Parkinson sat down in Slytherin, while Patil, Parvati joined the Gryffindors. Her twin sister, Padma Patil joined us in the Ravenclaws and Sally-Anne Perks went to the Hufflepuff table.

Soon, the whole hall hushed as Harry Potter sat down on the stool. I thought to myself, how did this small boy with glasses stop one of the most dangerous wizards in history?

As the hat lowered down on to his head, I wondered to myself what house the famous Harry Potter was going to be placed in. The poor boy sat there with that filthy hat on his head for ages, whispering quietly to him before it finally made a decision, shouting "GRYFFINDOR!"

After Potter sat down, Rhodes, Allen stood up and sat on the stool. There was no fear on his face, just a quiet smirk. The sorting hat was placed on his head, and the hat took quite a while to figure him out. Apparently there was more beneath those quiet eyes, and the hat was trying to figure that out right now.

After at least a minute of consideration, the hat decided on Hufflepuff. Allen got up and proceeded to the cheering Hufflepuff table, with little emotion on his face. He sat down and did little to acknowledge his new housemates, who were patting him on the back and ruffling his snow-white hair.

Once Weasley, Ronald was sorted into Gryffindor, and Zabini, Blaise was sorted into Slytherin, Professor Dumbledore stood and opened his arms wide.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Suddenly, the tables were filled with every kind of food that I could think of. The feast had begun, and I just couldn't wait any longer; I went wild with food.


	4. Chapter 4

It was getting late. I was stuffed to the brim, so much so that I felt like any sudden movements would have me face to face with my dinner once more. The feast had ended and Professor Dumbledore had given a few eerie last words about staying away from the third floor corridor if you did not want to die a painful death.

I heeded his words, despite the fact that a few people found it amusing. All of the first years rose out of our tables and followed our Ravenclaw prefect, Robert Hilliard out of the Great Hall.

In the Entrance Hall, I spotted Allen standing alone, as if he were waiting for someone. Falling out of the line, I went up to talk to him.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Nothing." It was barely a mumble.

"Why are you waiting out here? Aren't you going to go to your house?" I asked.

Barely glancing at me, he replied, "I'm waiting for Professor Dumbledore. He and I have a meeting before classes begin."

"What's it about?"

"None of your business."

"Mr. Hargreaves, shouldn't you be going to your house?" a voice said behind me. Turning, I found myself looking into the eyes of the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore himself.

"Uh, yes sir," I replied nervously before running off to catch up to Hilliard.

Sparing a glance back, I noticed the Headmaster lead Allen away, most likely to his office.

Eventually, I had managed to catch up to Hilliard, just as the group entered a staircase that wove around the outside of one of the towers. Glancing down off the edge of the guardrail, I noted that there was nothing stopping anyone from falling off the tower. I gulped and stayed as far away from the rail as possible, hugging the wall.

We reached the top of the tower, and sitting there was a door, with a brass, eagle knocker on it. It looked at Hilliard for a moment and asked, "I can run, but not walk. Wherever I go, thought follows close behind. What am I?"

"A riddle? We have to answer a riddle to get into the common room," one of the first years retorted. I remembered her name as Sue Li.

"Yeah," Hilliard replied. Thinking deeply, he leaned up against the wall. "What could it be?"

"I got it!" came a shout from behind me.

Hilliard took notice and pointed her out. "Yes, what's your name?"

"Caitlyn Brookheart, sir, the answer is a nose," she said.

"Very good," the knocker said before opening the door.

As we walked in, I turned to Grayson and asked, "A nose?"

Grayson merely shrugged as we entered the spacious room. We had walked onto the second level of the circular common room, which was half the size as the first floor. There were desks and chairs here for study, and we could look over the first floor, which had an extensive library and a fireplace, with plenty of couches and arm chairs. To my left, I saw a curved staircase, which followed the curvature of the wall as it made its way down to the lower level.

Hilliard introduced us to the room, "Welcome to the Ravenclaw common room. This upper section here is what we call the loft. It is for studying and also where the updates billboard is located. Directly below us is a much larger room cut in half. The half that is below us is the Ravenclaw study and library, the other half is an area where you can relax and curl up next to the fireplace or read." He led the group down the stairs and onto the lower level. He had them face two doors on the back wall of the library, which was underneath the door with the eagle knocker on the upper level. "These two doors lead two spiral staircases which, in turn, lead to the dormitories. Girls are on the left, boys are on the right. You'll find that all of your stuff has been brought to your rooms, so I'll leave it up to you to figure out who's bed is who's."

With that, he left. We all felt pretty tired from the events of today, and of course the meal, so there was no argument from anyone else about going to bed. I followed Grayson and the other first year boys down the steps and to the first room after the common room level, immediately recognizing Brittle's cage and my 'Fragile' labeled luggage already sitting on one of the beds.

There were four four-poster beds in the room, each crammed into a little nook in the wall, created by a shelf on one side and a desk on the other. My bed was on the far left 'corner' of the room. Grayson smiled in delight upon seeing his tabby cat, which was sitting in the bed in the near left corner. He patted it affectionately, calling it 'Rusty.'

It wasn't long before two more kids joined us in the dormitory; one was a rather slim, golden haired kid who introduced himself as Phineas Archibald. The other was a rowdy kid with an Irish accent named Kevin Entwhistle, who tried to convince everyone to stay up late and party. Grayson put an end to it, reminding Kevin about the classes he had tomorrow and the heavy workload.

I would unpack tomorrow. I was too tired to even think of anything. After changing into my pyjamas, I crawled into bed and admired the view out my window of the castle. It was the last thing I saw before falling asleep.

* * *

It was the first day of classes, and I had overslept. According to Grayson, he had to spend almost twenty minutes looking through the _Standard Book of Spells_ to find a spell that would produce a large enough bang to wake me up.

First class was Charms with Professor Flitwick. He was a tiny and joyful little man who was very forgiving of my lateness. He sat Grayson and I into one of the desks and asked us to copy down the notes on the board.

I had finished early, and I barely noticed that Grayson wasn't finished before I asked him, "Do you know if something is up with Allen?"

Still copying down notes on wrist movements for charms, he replied, "Other than his stuck up attitude?"

"Yeah," I muttered, "Other than that."

"Not really, besides that hair. I mean, it was snow white," he said. Looking back at me, he pointed his quill at me and said, "Don't you dare turn your hair white!"

"I won't, I won't," I reassured.

"Good, now what's this all about?"

"Well, when we left the feast yesterday, I noticed him standing alone in the Entrance hall. When I went to ask him about it, he told me that he had a meeting with the Headmaster before Professor Dumbledore told me to run along," I explained.

Grayson only gave me a look and said, "Don't worry about it. It's probably nothing. Maybe he's just getting extra classes or something like that."

"But that's the thing I don't get, what kind of classes?"

Before he could reply, Professor Flitwick interrupted Grayson. "Gastan, Hargreaves. Talking tells me that you're done, may I see your notes please?" he said as he walked over to our desk.

"I'm not finished, sir," Grayson, focusing his eyes on his work.

As the professor checked my work over, I leaned over to Grayson and whispered, "Sorry!"

* * *

The next class was Defence Against the Dark Arts, with Professor Quirrell, a tall, stuttering man who wore a large purple turban on his head. I chose a seat next to Grayson, and Allen, who were also in this class. I sat down and greeted him with a, "Hi!" to which I received a grunt in response.

Professor Quirell began the lesson by taking us through the course material that was expected to pass the subject. He seemed to have a rather high lack of confidence, which he explained was due to an encounter with Vampires, which would explain the terrible stench of garlic that filled the room.

"N-n-now class, I want e-each of y-you to copy down what it is that y-you w-w-will be expected to know t-to p-pass this course," he said as he turned over the chalkboard to reveal a whole list of material.

I began copying, but stopped when I noticed that the professor was looking at me. I gave him a casual grin, to which he did not reply.

It took me a moment before I realized that he wasn't, in fact, looking at me, but rather at Allen. I noticed that both of their gazes were meeting. I wasn't sure, but it looked like Allen was hiding some sort of pain. His eyes twitched and he cringed. Quirrell's gaze was very intense and direct. Something was going on between these two and it was making me nervous.

Grayson nudged me and said, "Um, Mal, your hair!"

Looking up, I saw strands of green coming down. Covering my head with my robes seemed to pull Quirrell's attention, who asked, "H-hargreaves! W-what are y-you doing?"

"Um, well, see sir, I-"

Allen interrupted and asked, no, demanded, "I need to go to the Hospital wing, sir. It's urgent."

Without even waiting for a reply, Allen leapt out of his seat and out the classroom door, all eyes following him as he went. I'm not sure, but I thought I saw him clutching his stomach on his way out.

Quirrell just stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face. After a few moments, he muttered, "F-first years."

I wasn't paying attention to that, I was trying to understand what had happened between Allen and Quirrell when their gazes met.


	5. Chapter 5

"What's wrong with him?" Grayson asked me.

Throughout the whole day, he had asked me that once. The truth is, I don't know. All I do know is that the reason Allen is in the Hospital Wing right now is because Quirrell did something to him. Earlier in the day, after Lunch, I had gone to visit him, only to have Madam Pomfrey shoo me away. From what I could see behind her, I could tell he was out cold.

We were both sitting at one of the tables in the loft up in the common room, working away at homework. Let me rephrase that; Grayson was doing his homework. I couldn't even look at my Defence Against the Dark Arts homework without thinking about what had taken place in Quirrell's class.

He had noticed my blank stare and waved his hand in front of my face. "Are you alright?" he asked as I jumped, "You seemed to be in a trance."

"It's Allen. What happened in Defence Against the Dark Arts class is really bothering me," I answered.

"Why? He probably just got sick from something he ate at the Welcoming Feast," Grayson suggested.

I decided to tell him, stating everything that I had seen during the class. Once I was finished, Grayson looked a bit grim.

"You sure he wasn't looking away?" he asked.

"Positive, why?"

"Well, you learn that when someone is using a spell or a curse, they have to keep eye contact on whatever they're inflicting it on. If this is the case, then I think you should tell Dumbledore," Grayson explained.

I shook my head. "It's only been the first day! How are we going to look if we make random accusations on the first day? They'll think we're mad!"

Grayson stood up and packed his things together. "If you really care that much for Allen, then I suggest you help the staff in any way you can to determine what is wrong with him." With that, he marched off to the dormitory.

He was right, but I was too much of a coward to see it for myself.

I packed my things and left them on the desk. I decided to go for a walk around the grounds. Leaving the eagle knocker door, I began walking down the steps of the tower, only to be stopped by Professor Flitwick, who was on his way up the tower.

"Mr. Hargreaves! Where are you going?" he asked. Checking his pocket watch, he added, "It's after hours. Go back inside!"

He was his usual cheerful self, and I was very tempted to tell him what I know, but I couldn't. I just couldn't.

* * *

A week had passed since that strange Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and I still hadn't spoken a word to anyone about it. Grayson was still trying to get me to do it. It was gnawing away at me. I found it hard to concentrate in class, especially Quirrell's class.

At breakfast this morning, I had finally run into Allen, who was sitting at the Hufflepuff table eating a bowl of cereal.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Fine," he muttered, barely looking up from his glass as he took a swig of pumpkin juice, "Could you tell me what I missed in Defence Against the Dark Arts? I was too sick to even go to class."

"Yeah, sure," I replied. Deciding to pry further, I asked, "Allen, do you have any idea what Quirrell was doing to you?"

"What are you talking about? I haven't even seen Quirrell yet, let alone talk to him,"

This was starting to bother me too. He had no recollection of even going to class. I decided to just leave it. Without another word, I left, walking over to where Grayson was sitting. He had a plate full of buttered, burnt toast.

I slammed into the seat next to him, almost tripping.

Looking up, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Never mind, I have to talk to you!"

"Okay, shoot!" he replied, setting his piece of toast down.

"Allen is back, and he doesn't even remember the class!" I almost shouted. Noting the odd look on his face, I muttered, "My hair's neon green, right?"

He nodded, "How did you know?"

"It turns that colour when I'm excited," I covered my head with my robe again to hide it.

"So you're excited, which means you want to tell a member of staff now, right?"

"No! I-I-I can't!"

"Yes, you can!" Grayson shot back. Then, a slight look of fear became etched in his face.

"What?" I asked; that's when I noticed the shadow looming over me. It was McGonagall, and she was looking right at me, "Professor! I-uh, I hope I wasn't doing anything wrong."

"Remove the robe from your head, Mr. Hargreaves," she said sternly. I really hoped that my hair had changed back.

"Why, professor?" I asked. Good move, talking back to a teacher. That would earn at least ten points taken from Ravenclaw.

"Do I need an excuse, Mr. Hargreaves? Remove your robe from your head!"

I lowered my hood and she immediately said, "Wasn't your hair brown when I saw you in Transfiguration yesterday?"

Quickly, my brain raced to find an excuse. "Well, um, see professor, I found that brown wasn't…wasn't cutting it for me, which is why I changed it."

"Trying to impersonate Mr. Weasley, are we?" she asked with a tiny smile. At least I thought it was a smile. There was a moment where she looked me directly in the eyes and stated, "I thought your eyes brown."

"What colour are they now?" I turned, asking Grayson. I was on the verge of panic here.

Standing up to get a better look, he replied, "Green, and your hair is Weasley red."

"I take it that it isn't your doing, Mr. Hargreaves," Professor McGonagall cut in.

Leaning closer towards me, Grayson said, "If you can conquer this, you can conquer the Allen problem!"

Now Professor McGonagall was starting to look annoyed. The conversation had been between me and her, and it had somehow shifted to me and Grayson. "If I may interrupt, but what are you going to be conquering?"

"Um, well, professor, I've been keeping a secret from all of you," I admitted.

Looking around, the professor noted that many pairs of eyes were watching us. Taking me by the arm, she led me to her classroom, which was only a short walk away. On my way out, I noticed a smug Grayson waving to me.

Professor McGonagall's room was pretty big, attached to one of the many courtyards that were located in the school. Many animals occupied cages around us, and, surprisingly, made no noise as we entered.

Turning on her heel, just as she approached her desk, she asked me to take a seat. She gestured to an empty chair that was facing her desk. "Now, what is this about, Mr. Hargreaves?"

"Well, it's about my hair, and, apparently, my eyes too," I said, quite shamefully.

"Mr. Hargreaves, as much as I'd like to discuss hair and eyes with you, I have a lot of things to do. So, what is it that is bothering you?" she asked. She was starting to sound impatient. The last thing I wanted was too get her angry with me. Of all people, her.

"When I was younger, I fell off a boardwalk and into the ocean. That was where my magical powers started to show themselves. They found me at the bottom of the ocean in an air pocket that I had created myself. Ever since, my hair changed colours on it's own. I don't know why. My parents never found out, they just figured that I kept on dying it over and over again. My sister Kimberly thinks it's a curse, but I have figured out myself that the colours follow an emotional pattern, or whatever I'm thinking. I don't know, am I going crazy, professor?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Hargreaves, what you've told me makes perfect sense. I'm not quite sure myself, but I want you to come back here tomorrow, after dinner. I'm going to have a chat with Professor Dumbledore about this. I have a pretty good idea what you are. Now off you go, you're going to be late for class," she said as she sat down at her desk.

"Thank you, professor," I replied, standing up and preparing to leave. I stopped myself just as I was at the threshold of the classroom door. "Professor, I was wondering if I might talk to you privately about Allen Rhodes, when we meet tomorrow? Something isn't right about him."

Looking up from her papers, she gazed at me for a long moment before she said, "We'll see."

I was taking another step out of the threshold, before she called out, "Mr. Hargreaves, you might want to fix this." She made a swiping motion over her hair, with her hand. I immediately looked to one of the mirrors in the class, seeing myself with bright turquoise hair. Shielding it with my books, I quickly darted out of the room, shouting "Thank you professor!" on my way out.

Who should I talk to first? Should I tell Kimberly that it isn't a curse? Should I tell Grayson that I had told McGonagall both things? Should I tell Allen that I'm going to get to the bottom of what's wrong with him? You can imagine how little I got to sleep that night, because of my excitement. My hair was a dim shade of neon green the whole day; just enough for Grayson to point it out and ask why I was so excited. My problem was going to be solved, finally!


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up that morning with a dim shade of neon green. For some reason, I wasn't too bothered.

I walked into this morning's Herbology lesson, immediately being complemented by Professor Sprout, who said that my hair was almost the same shade as the plants that we were going to be working with today. I wasn't too sure if she knew what I was, or if she thought that I had dyed it.

I had explained to Grayson what had happened in McGonagall's class, and his first reaction was relief that I even mentioned Allen in the first place. We were sitting in the Great Hall at lunch when the topic came up.

"McGonagall seemed to be slightly agitated when I told her, as if it were something that I wasn't supposed to know," I told Grayson.

"If the whole staff knows about it, then it must be a big issue. It must be a dangerous issue," Grayson replied. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, "Sounds cool."

I had to admire his enthusiasm and sense of adventure. I had been talking to our roommate, Phineas, earlier, and he had told me that Grayson possessed some qualities normally associated with Gryffindor. Intelligent he may be, but bravery and thirst for adventure were his stronger suits.

Grayson took another bite out of his sandwich and checked his watch, only to shriek. "It's 1:43! We're going to be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts!" Shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, he ran off.

I had barely looked up in time to see him running out of the massive doors of the Great Hall. I immediately bolted to my feet, grabbed my things and ran after him. "Wait! Grayson! Wait!"

Defence Against the Dark Arts. I dreaded it a lot. Don't get me wrong, I found a lot of the things in that class to be very interesting, and so far, I had managed to pull decent marks during the quizzes. Quirrell was the only thing that bothered me, and what he had done to Allen.

Once we were all seated in the class (yes, Grayson and I did make it), he told us to immediately sit in groups of two.

"S-someone other than w-who you n-n-normally sit w-with," he added. Grayson and I both traded a look of displeasure before we moved off to find someone else. I immediately searched for Allen, but he wasn't there.

"Professor! Where's Allen?" I asked. The words had left my mouth before I had even thought of them. I felt a little embarrassed, and I noticed him recoil slightly. My hair had obviously changed state again.

"M-mister Rhodes has been moved f-from m-my class, by P-professor D-D-Dumbledore himself," Quirrell answered, looking back and forth between my hair and my eyes. He smiled sheepishly before adding, "I-I'm not s-sure why."

Sighing, I looked around to see that everyone had partnered up, even Grayson, who was with Terry Boot.

"I-is there anyone w-who doesn't h-have a p-partner?" Quirrell asked.

I raised my hand, and was surprised to see another hand go up in the back. It was Caitlyn Brookheart, someone I hadn't met yet. She was pretty. Very pretty, and it surprised me that she was one of the ones left out.

"G-go on, Mr. Hargreaves," Quirrell urged before starting the lesson.

I sat down next to her, and at first it didn't seem to me like she was going to acknowledge me. It didn't surprise me. Most girls at my old muggle school that I liked wouldn't acknowledge me either. I was my shy, usual self again, hoping to just get through this class.

But the unthinkable happened. She turned to me and whispered, "I like your hair." She giggled a little, and I went red in the face.

I wasn't sure what to say next, obviously. I was so blushed and taken off guard that I had asked the most stupid thing ever: "What colour did it turn now?"

* * *

It was dinner, and Grayson had spent the whole time talking about his life story. Well, actually, it had been somewhat of a group discussion after Phineas asked him what it was like to live in a completely magical family.

"When I was eight, I had read every book of spells on my parents shelf, without their knowledge of course. My dad had been complaining earlier in the week that he had lost his wand, so both of my parents went out one night to get a new one for him. I stayed home. While they were out I had taken a quick look around and had managed to find it. That's when a robber broke into our home and tried to take our stuff. He saw me and tried to shoot me with those muggle weapons, uh, what are they called?" he looked at me.

"A gun?" I suggested. I had been half-paying attention. The dull shade of neon green that I had had earlier was getting much more distinct. It was growing with my excitement. After dinner, I would learn who I really was. Glancing at the high table, I noticed Professor McGonagall spare me a few glances, as if to remind me that we had a meeting afterward.

"Yeah, that's it," Grayson continued, "He shot me several times, but on instinct, I had managed to create a shield charm that surrounded me completely. He gave up. I was too much for him."

Suddenly, Grayson's older brother, Manfred, had stopped next to our gathered group of first year Ravenclaws and said, "Don't forget to mention the part where you were so frightened that it took several hours for mum and dad to coax you out of the shield!"

Everyone laughed, even the group of girls he was trying to impress. He turned red and I couldn't help chuckling a bit too. His fourth year brother was laughing the hardest, and many people from the other tables were staring at the Ravenclaw table, trying to figure out what was so funny.

Eventually, people began clearing out of the Great Hall. I was all set, ready to head to the Transfiguration classroom, only to be stopped by Professor McGonagall, who was already waiting at the Entrance hall for me.

"We have a change of plan, Mr. Hargreaves," McGonagall said, "We will be meeting in Professor Dumbledore's office."

She motioned to the direction in which I was supposed to head, and I began walking down the halls, just behind her.

"Why are we going to Dumbledore's office?" I asked nervously.

"When I discussed it with the Headmaster yesterday, he said he wanted to meet with you in person," she explained. Not a word more.

Turning down another corridor, I spotted the long, silver beard of the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, standing outside a small spiral staircase. Noticing us, he turned and waved, saying, "Ah, Professor McGonagall, Mr. Hargreaves. If I may welcome you to my office."

He gestured for us to go up the stairs into the largest office I had ever seen. It felt like three, separate, circular rooms. There were books everywhere and display cases filled with odd little gizmos that were beyond my comprehension. Sitting next to his desk, was a large red, phoenix. I remembered reading about them in Care for Magical Creatures class.

Dumbledore brushed past us and turned on his heel, immediately looking into my eyes. "You've won the house cup!" he exclaimed, "I'm also appointing you to be the head of the Ravenclaw quidditch team, as a seeker, and I'm going to make you an early prefect."

My jaw hung open. What did he just say? I suppose I should've felt happy, but in reality, I was confused, and maybe a little frightened.

He smiled gently. "I'd hate to disappoint you, but none of that is true. I merely had to test you, to see if Professor McGonagall's accusations were true. I must say, you passed with flying colours, if you'll pardon the pun."

Looking up at my hair, I noticed it had turned a bright shade of blue.

"You are not a mutant, Mr. Hargreaves, nor are you a freak of nature. You are a metamorphmagus, you have the ability to change your appearance at will," he explained.

"A metamormagus?" I asked.

Dumbledore chuckled. It was a very soothing sound. "Metamorphmagus," he replied.

"I hate to be a downer, Professor, but I don't control it at will."

Again, Dumbledore chuckled, "It takes some training to refine that skill, but do not fear, we have some experience with dealing with Metamorphmagi here at Hogwarts."

I glanced at McGonagall and back to Dumbledore. "The way you two have been talking, tells me that there are more like me in the wizarding world."

Dumbledore nodded. "That is true. There are other metamorphmagi around the world, but they are a rarity. It is most surprising, even to me that we have run into another Metamorphmagus, just as one leaves, aren't I right, Minerva?"

McGonagall nodded, and I felt like I was being left out of the loop here. "What do you mean?"

"We had a student just graduate from Hogwarts last year who was a Metamorphmagus. Her name was Nymphadora Tonks and I must say that by the time she left, she had developed some incredible skills with her powers," Dumbledore explained.

McGonagall sighed behind me as she muttered, "A little too developed if you ask me. She was quite a trouble maker."

"Yes, well, this time I think we have been fortunate enough to have received a much more responsible Metamorphmagus, which leads me into what you needed to discuss with me about Mr. Rhodes," Dumbledore said. His expression had turned a little grimmer when he had mentioned Mr. Rhodes.

I had forgotten about that. I was so excited about learning what I was, that I forgot that I had to discuss this as well. "Right, Allen, yes sir."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and I could see, off to the corner of my eye that my hair was turning a deep shade of red. Blood red. My palms were sweating, and I had no idea why. I was only saying what I had seen, nothing more, but it almost felt like I was trying to make an excuse to get me out of trouble.

"When Allen got sick the other day, I don't think it was a cold or anything like that. I think Professor Quirrell did it."

"Professor Quirrell? That is a serious accusation you are making, Mr. Hargreaves," McGonagall nearly shouted.

I continued. "When I was sitting in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Allen, I noticed that for a moment, the two of them were gazing into each others eyes. Allen looked like he was in pain, and Professor Quirrell looked like he was inflicting it with his mind. I was trying to hide my hair problem when I accidently distracted them, and the two of them broke their gaze. Allen ran off, saying that he was sick."

"Is that all?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, when I saw Allen yesterday, he had no memory of what had happened. He didn't even remember meeting Professor Quirrell that day."

Dumbledore and McGonagall traded a glance with one another before Dumbledore spoke again. "You must understand, that this is a personal matter between Allen and me. Allen has chosen to keep things private, now I must ask you to no longer dwell on this again. Am I understood?"

I nodded, and immediately, Dumbledore smiled. He stood and walked over to me, putting an arm around my shoulder

"Now, I will get into contact with Tonks to see if she could provide you with a few lessons in harnessing your powers. I'm sure you two will get along just fine. Now, off you go," he said as he led me to the door to his office.

"Thank you, professor," I said as I hurried out the door and down the stairs.

I didn't know what to think after I had left. I was really excited that someone was going to teach me how to use my abilities, but I was slightly surprised by what Dumbledore had said about Allen. The only thought that crossed my mind was that I wasn't going to stop dwelling on those thoughts. If anything, Dumbledore had only made me want to find out more.


	7. Chapter 7

**A special thank you to all those who reviewed! If you have any questions, don't be afraid to drop me a private message!**

Weeks were passing, and I was unable to find anything wrong with Allen. He sat at the end of the tables at breakfast, lunch and dinner, away from everyone else, but that wasn't abnormal of him. He was quiet and calm all day, everyday, seeing as little people as possible. Still, that wasn't very unusual for Allen.

The only thing that struck me as odd about him was that Allen was still missing out on Defence Against the Dark Arts class, but neither he, nor Professor Quirrell ever told us why.

I guess I should really be concerned with my own schoolwork. I was reaching a point in the school year where I was beginning to question why I was ever put in Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw valued intelligence and wit. I had flunked a Herbology quiz and the ghost of Professor Binns had told me that I was failing his History of Magic class.

What scared me even more was the fact that my friend in Gryffindor, Hermione Granger, had told me that it was only going to get more difficult by the time exams rolled around. I was going to die. On top of that, I still hadn't received any word from Professor Dumbledore about upcoming lessons in using the abilities I had as a Metamorphmagus.

Speaking of which, I had told Grayson about it, explaining that Dumbledore was going to have someone teach me how to control my powers. He seemed delighted, already coming up with schemes involving me sneaking around, disguised as someone else.

I frowned on it, not because the plans were wrong, but because I didn't have a shred of courage in me. I mean, if I didn't belong in Ravenclaw, I certainly didn't deserve to be put in Gryffindor either, because of their value of bravery.

In the morning we had flying class with Madam Hooch. We were coming along in the class, but nothing like that Harry Potter in her previous class. He had made the Gryffindor Quidditch house team in his first year, which apparently never happened. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't jealous. I was much too timid to want to be a big Quidditch star.

As for Madam Hooch, she was a very strict woman with yellow, hawk-like eyes and short, spiky, grey hair. She marched along the training grounds and directed us through a mock game of Quidditch. After explaining the rules, she had picked the two captains.

"Mr. Rhodes, you will lead team 1, Ms. Abbott, you will lead team 2. Now, choose your teammates one after the other," she commanded, separating the two.

As we waited, Grayson turned to me and said, "You know the big Halloween feast is tonight, right?"

"Yeah," I replied. To tell you the truth, I was a little disappointed that I was going to be picked last. It was the same when we played football games in my old muggle school. No one wanted me.

Allen seemed to be disregarding that we were friends, and he was going for the strong fliers in the class. I saw Hannah Abbott choose Caitlyn and Caitlyn immediately begun to whisper in her ear.

"Are you going?" Grayson asked.

I nodded. I had one weakness, which was chocolate, and according to Kimberly, there was going to be a lot of it at the feast.

"Grayson," Allen said, motioning for him to join his team.

It was a surprise for me, Allen seemed to get annoyed really easily just by Grayson's presence. Turning to me, Grayson smiled cheekily and said, "I must be really popular today!"

Caitlyn had finished whispering in Hannah's ear and was pointing at me. Both of them giggled for a few seconds before Hannah said, "Mal." Caitlyn motioned for me to come join the team.

I was surprised, and it took a little nudge from Madam Hooch before I actually started to get going. Looking behind me, I saw a few people still waiting to be placed in a team. I wasn't last!

I joined Hannah's team, standing next to Caitlyn, who whispered into my ear, cheerfully, "You're welcome!"

A small, but meaningful grin appeared on my face as I replied in a tiny voice, "Thank you!" I blushed a deep red, and I'm sure my hair was changing to all sorts of colours.

She giggled a little before Madam Hooch called our attention to start the game.

* * *

Next class was charms with Professor Flitwick, who was taking us through the spell, _Finite Incantatem_. When we all reached for our _Standard Book of Spells_, he told us to stop, saying, "It's not in that book, I thought we'd learn something fun today, considering it's Halloween!"

He began to draw vast diagrams on the chalkboard. Putting his piece of white chalk down, he turned to face the class and explained, "_Finite Incantatem_ is the General Counter-Spell. We normally teach it to second years, but it's a useful spell to have in your arsenal. What it does, is it ceases any effects a spell may have on an object or person. There are a few spells it doesn't work for, but aside from those, it is really handy."

Looking around the classroom, I noticed that Allen was missing. Nudging Grayson in the side, he turned to me, rolled his eyes and said, "Let me guess, Allen isn't here?"

I nodded; my eyes wide open in fear.

"Why are you worrying so much about him? Seriously, he hasn't missed a class in days. Plus, it's Halloween. People are bound to skip!" he replied cheerfully.

I only wished I had his optimism.

* * *

The Halloween feast was simply spectacular. The actual dinner was smaller than usual, but Professor Dumbledore, sitting at the head table, reassured us, saying that we would not be disappointed. We weren't. By the time desert had rolled around, thoughts of the small dinner had vanished, replaced with the huge plates of sweets and chocolate that had appeared out of nowhere.

We were all tucking in, when I spotted Allen sitting at the end of the Hufflepuff table, sitting upright and still. He stared blankly at the opposite wall, not saying a thing. I supposed he was thinking deeply, as he normally did, so I ignored it and went back to eating a large slice of pumpkin pie.

Rather suddenly, the doors to the great hall burst open and Professor Quirrell came running in, a look of sheer terror on his face as he screamed, "TROLL! IN THE DUNGEONS! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

Dumbledore rose immediately and Quirrell quietly said, "Thought you ought to know." Then he fainted and collapsed onto the floor.

For a good five seconds, the whole hall remained silent. Everyone turned his or her heads silently, looking from one person to the next. Then, everyone drew a breath and screamed at the top of their lungs, dropping their food and running around the room in panic. It was complete cacophony. It was chaos.

"SILENCE!" shouted Dumbledore, whose voice stopped everyone in their tracks. Quietly, he continued, "Prefects, lead your houses back to your dormitories. Teachers, follow me."

Everything grew much calmer. Looking around, I saw Robert Hilliard leading the Ravenclaw students back to our dormitory. That wasn't the only thing I saw. I looked over to see Allen remaining completely still, unfazed by what had happened.

Running over to him, I waved my hand in front of his face several times, only to receive no reaction. His eyes were blank and he didn't move a muscle.

Professor Sprout appeared from behind me and said loudly, "Get a move on, Mr. Hargreaves!"

"But, Professor, Allen is as still as a statue!" I replied, almost in a panic.

Immediately noticing his blank stare, she grabbed him and pulled him up, carrying him out of the entrance of the Great Hall. He didn't seem to notice it. "I'll take it from here, Mr. Hargreaves, now go to your dormitory, quickly!"

I ran off to catch up with Hilliard, knowing he had a good head start on me, and that at any moment, I could become crushed by a troll.

* * *

I sat alone in my dormitory, pulling open my case that read, 'fragile' on it. I hadn't opened it since the train. All the others were downstairs in the common room, debating on how a troll managed to get into the school. I found no such interest in what they were saying, so I had climbed up here to spend some time alone. I decided not to tell Grayson anything. I feared he might ridicule me for it. He thought I was being too suspicious of Allen. He was probably right, but it didn't explain the events of today.

Opening the case, I ran my fingers over the curves and bends of my father's old violin. It was beautiful, made of a dark, reddish wood and shiny, metallic strings. I slid my hand around it and pulled it up, slowly plucking away at it. There wasn't really a tune to it, but it brought me comfort as I lay in bed, looking out at the many turrets and towers of the castle from my window.

Suddenly, Grayson walked in and immediately spied the violin in my hands. "What is that?" he asked.

I was slightly shocked that he hadn't seen it before. My father had explained to me that many people in the wizarding world played. I smiled sheepishly and replied, "A violin. It's a musical instrument."

"You play?" he asked.

I nodded and started to put it back in its case. I noticed a tiny frown on his face as I did, but I chose to ignore it, zipping the case back up and sliding it under my bed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

Trying on my best smile, I replied, "Nope!" Something told me that he didn't believe me. It was probably my hair.

Before the conversation could go further, we heard Flitwick walk into the common room above us. We ran up and saw all of the Ravenclaws gathered around as he began speaking from the fireplace on the bottom level.

"We have nothing to fear anymore, fellow Ravenclaws," he squeaked, "Young Harry Potter from Gryffindor managed to stop the beast with his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

"How?" someone asked, "They're only first years!"

"All I can say is that they must've paid close attention in my classes," he squeaked, before heading off down the stairs. "Goodnight, all!"

The more of this famous Harry Potter I heard about, the more I thought he was some super hero with unlimited skills and abilities. I wanted to ask him how to handle this situation with Allen. Obviously he knew more than I did.


	8. Chapter 8

***Just a little notice, because these are British characters, the term 'football' is referring to the sport which is so popularly referred to in North America as 'soccer' **

It was the first Quidditch match of the season and the weather was chili. I was coughing. My nose was running. I was sneezing. I had a cold, and to make it worse, every time I sneezed, my hair would explode in a huge burst of colour. It was really strange, nothing like that had ever happened to me before. I always had a habit of catching the worst colds, even in my old muggle school, but never to the point where my hair would explode with colour like that.

The game was Gryffindor versus Slytherin. At breakfast, Grayson was telling me about a long-standing rivalry between the two houses. From what he was saying, it sounded like Gryffindor had been crushed in Quidditch year after year by Slytherin, and now it seemed like they would finally be able to stand a chance. Apparently, the Gryffindor team was at its best. It hadn't had this many strong players in years.

As Grayson led me to the Quidditch pitch, he tried to explain the rules to me, only to have me look at him with a confused expression on my face. The truth was that my parents, being so involved with muggles, had never bothered to bring me to a Quidditch game before. The only sports games that I've been to are football games, something that me and the Gryffindor, Dean Thomas, liked to talk about.

After giving up on trying to explain it to me, Grayson and I stood in the stands covered in blue and white banners and draping.

"The only thing you have to remember, Mal, is that we're cheering for Gryffindor, because Manfred said that we can't have Slytherin win another year in a row," Grayson told me as I wrapped my blue and white stripped scarf tighter around my neck.

I sneezed again, and everyone around me laughed as my hair shifted from red to green to black to bronze and then back to brown. "This cold is getting worse," I muttered.

Grayson looked down on me and asked, "How much worse can it get? Is your hair going to change styles too?"

"That's not funny."

Grayson chuckled as he began pointing out the different positions on the team to Kevin Entwhistle, our roommate. I was scared out of my wits when two hands slid over my head and blocked my eyes. My whole body tensed and shook, but I wasn't going anywhere.

"Guess who?" a familiar female voice asked. The voice was really familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Penelope Clearwater?" I asked in all seriousness.

"Nope."

"Umm, Padma Patil?"

"Nope."

"Cho Chang?"

"Oh, come on, Mal, it's not that hard to figure out who it is," the voice said, sounding jokingly annoyed.

"Caitlyn?"

Finally releasing my eyes, she spun me around and replied, "Bingo!"

I smiled sheepishly in return, trying my best not to look idiotic, which in my eyes, was the most difficult thing to do, especially in front of her.

"You're hair shot straight into a cute shade of red when I scared you," she said through laughter.

My face went, as she described, as red as my hair had been and I tried to laugh it off. To tell you the truth, I was a complete wreck in front of girls.

"I still find it pretty cool that you're a metamorphmagus, even though I don't know what that is," she continued.

"How do you know?" I asked. Another stupid question on my end. Well, every question I asked her was a stupid question. It sounded so harsh and unforgiving when I asked that. It was almost as if I was interrogating her for committing some crime.

Luckily, however, she didn't seem to think so, or at least she didn't show it. Why am I so pessimistic about these sorts of things? "Phineas told me," she replied, "He says he heard you and Grayson talking about it in the dormitories."

I smiled at her, not knowing how to respond. It seemed to be enough for her, as she turned to face the pitch and asked, "So, what are we watching?"

"It's called Quidditch," I answered, "Beyond the name, I don't know anything else about it, well, aside from what Madam Hooch had told us." I sounded like an idiot. I expected her to turn to me with a horrified expression on her face and tell me how out of touch with the world I was simply for not knowing what it was.

She didn't do that though. Instead she looked at me with a welcoming smile and replied, "Me neither."

That took me as a shock, she seemed like the sort of person who would know these things. She must've noticed the look of shock on my face, because she continued, "My parents are both muggles. I'd never even heard that there was such a thing as magic before I got my letter, when I turned eleven."

Looking up, I noticed my hair turn a weird shade of pink and green, almost like a watermelon. She smiled as I asked, "Caitlyn, I was wondering if you-"

Suddenly, Grayson appeared between us and looked over at her, saying, "Hey there. The name's Grayson Gastan, what's yours, sweetheart?"

Looking between the two of us, she said, "I'll see you around, Mal." She smiled at me as she left to meet up with her friend, Padma.

Grayson looked over at me and nudged me in the shoulder. "You know that Brookheart girl, the one who just left?"

"Yeah?"

"She's one pretty girl," he replied.

"Yeah," I sighed, leaning on the edge of the stands.

The teams had flown out of their change rooms and were now doing laps around the pitch. Soon it was a mismatch of people wearing red robes and green robes, flying around the pitch. It was incredible. That level of flying was beyond anything our class was capable of.

I had spotted Harry Potter, hanging in the air as the crowd cheered wildly, but I wasn't to focused on that. I was preoccupied thinking about what Grayson had just said about Caitlyn. Grayson was good-looking and had the ability to get any girl he wanted in the entire grade. It seemed like a horrible coincidence that he was after the one I got on with nicely. Well, my definition of nicely was strained. Okay, what I meant to say was that we were friendly to each other, even if it means me standing there acting stupid.

"What's the matter?" he asked, "You're looking kind of glum."

"Nothing," I muttered. I was too shy to say anything. Despite the fact that I had a crush on Caitlyn, I didn't want to jeopardize my friendship with Grayson.

* * *

On our way back to the castle, after the game, Grayson would not stop talking about how amazing it was. Gryffindor had finally beat Slytherin, and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were happy for it too.

I still find it kind of bizarre that Potter's broom went wild during the match and nearly threw him off. Even more odd that he nearly swallowed the golden snitch. Obviously, this game was much different from football.

Grayson and Phineas went back to the common room to celebrate, while I went off to find Caitlyn again, only to meet Professor Dumbledore near the stone circle next to the covered bridge.

"Mr. Hargreaves, I was just looking for you," he said. There was a twinkle in his eye that somehow reminded me of Santa, especially in this cold weather.

"Me, sir?" I asked. Had he finally talked with this Tonks person?

"Yes. I was just speaking with Nymphadora Tonks and she said she was willing to give you a few lessons in using your metamorphmagic abilities (My inner self fist pumped and shouted 'yes!'); in fact, she was more than willing to do so. She seemed pretty excited to help out."

"When do we begin?"

"Meet me next Friday in my office, after dinner. She says she'll be here by then," he replied.

"Thank you, professor."

He smiled and walked off, but just as he was reaching the entrance to the covered bridge, did I ask, "Professor! How's Allen doing? I haven't seen him."

He stopped in his tracks and looked back at me, with a mysterious smile. I was expecting him to tell me not to interfere with what was going on with Allen, instead, I got this mischievous grin on his face.

After a few seconds, he replied, "He's just fine, Mr. Hargreaves. He's just fine. In fact, you can go visit him in the hospital wing."

He turned and continued down the covered bridge, leaving me to wonder if his original statement to no longer dwell on Allen's problems was still valid.


	9. Chapter 9

Transfiguration class. I'm still sick. I just wish I could crawl back into bed and stay there. I had spent most of the night with a plugged nose and a dry throat. It took a lot of effort on Grayson's part to drag me out of bed, and when he eventually did, I ended up lying on the cold, stone floor for ages.

After that, he dragged my miserable self down the even-colder Ravenclaw tower stairs, through the school and into the Great Hall. Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, was checking up on people in the Great Hall that morning, giving them a cup of Pepperup potion to make them feel better. Of course, she missed me and went back to the Hospital wing. I guess it isn't all bad, I mean, I saw Phineas leave the Great Hall with smoke coming out of his ears this morning, muttering about how potent the potion was.

Speaking of the Hospital wing, I had gone to visit Allen in the Hospital Wing a week ago, almost immediately after I had spoken to Dumbledore after the Quidditch match. Again, he had no memory of the incident and had been more interested in knowing who won the match. Again, his cheerfulness was out of character for him. Both times, he had no recollection of what had occurred and was slightly more cheerful than usual afterward. It was really bizarre.

Needless to say, I left the Hospital with more questions instead of answers.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yes. Transfiguration. It was very difficult for people to stifle their laughter every time I sneezed. My hair still erupted into an explosion of colour. I even noticed Professor McGonagall smile with amusement.

We were working on turning mice into snuffboxes, and I was having no luck at all. Transfiguration was not my strong suit. McGonagall was marking stuff at her desk while the rest of us worked. Occasionally, she got up and did a circuit around the classroom, just to check on us.

"Mr. Hargreaves, how many times am I going to have to come over there to fix your mouse?" she asked as I stared at a snuffbox sitting on my desk…with a tail and ears.

"Sorry, professor," I muttered. Then I sneezed, and my hair shifted into green to red to yellow and back to brown.

I could see the professor's mouth form an extremely tiny smile as she said, "It appears that Mr. Gastan is having little trouble in this class. Maybe you should refer to him if you have any problems."

I looked over at Grayson, who had not only transformed his mouse into a snuffbox, but had also added an engraving of his initials, 'GG', on it. Looking at my 'snuffbox' and my frustrated expression, he smiled in an apologetic way.

"Mr. Gastan, here, is probably one of the most gifted students I've ever taught in Transfiguration. You'd be wise to learn from him," she said as she marched off.

The minute she moved on to speak with Hannah Abbott and Ernie MacMillan, I slumped onto my desk in frustration. McGonagall had also forgotten to change my 'snuffbox' back into a mouse.

"Ah, don't worry about it. To tell you the truth, it is actually difficult," Grayson reassured as he changed my 'snuffbox' back.

I just gave him a look, and he backed down, saying, "That was kind of condescending, wasn't it?"

I nodded and continued to watch the class. My eyes had drifted to Caitlyn, who was giggling with her friend, Padma Patil, about the odd, fury snuffbox sitting on her desk.

"You like her, don't you?"

I looked up and saw Grayson carelessly changing his mouse into a snuffbox and back again, over and over. There was no thought to what he was doing; his focus was on me.

"What?" I asked.

"Brookheart. You like her, don't you?" he asked.

I quickly tried again, mumbling the incantation under my breath and watching as my snuffbox began to squeak like a mouse. How did he know what I was thinking? Was he also a telepath, as well as a Transfiguration master? Sighing, I muttered, "yes", really quietly.

He smiled playfully again as he changed my snuffbox back into a mouse. "You know, I never meant what I said."

I gave him the 'what the heck are you talking about?' look.

"I meant on me being attracted to her. She's definitely out of my league," he said, smiling, "She's way to good for me. When I saw you two talking yesterday, I just wanted to mess with you."

"That's encouraging," I muttered, slumping even farther into my desk.

"She's more in your league," he replied.

Looking up at him in confusion, I asked, "Did you just?"

"Yeah, I called you better than me. She's obviously interested in you, why don't you ask her out?" he nearly shouted.

I began shaking my head furiously.

"Why not?"

"I can't do it. I talk like a bumbling idiot in front of her!" I replied. I took a moment to try changing my mouse again, just to make it appear that I was actually doing some work. This time, I had a snuffbox running around on four, furry legs.

"Mal, I hate to tell you this, but you act like a bumbling idiot all day long, and you know what? She seems to really like that."

"I'm not sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment," I replied, watching as he reset my snuffbox again.

"Take it as a compliment. Just remember, if you need any more help, just talk to me," he said. I smiled and tried again, this time producing a shining, silver snuffbox.

* * *

After dinner, I made my way out of the Great Hall and down through the Entrance Hall, stopping in my tracks upon meeting Dumbledore.

"Hello, Professor, what can I do?" I asked.

"Have you forgotten already?" he replied.

"Forgotten what?"

He looked at me, staring over his half moon spectacles. It almost seemed like he was staring straight into my mind and pulling out the thought I was supposed to remember, because I immediately exclaimed, "SHE'S HERE?"

"Yes, Ms. Tonks is waiting in my office," he said, holding out an inviting arm.

I followed him down the hall, past the courtyard and up the stairs into his triple leveled office. There, standing next to his desk was a young woman, about eight or nine years older than me. Upon seeing Dumbledore and I, she smiled and waved, moving over towards us and tripping on the table closest to the door.

"Malcolm, this is Tonks, she is a metamorphmagus," Dumbledore introduced as she picked herself up.

Of course she was. Who else would run around with bubble-gum pink hair?


	10. Chapter 10

I was slightly dumbfounded by the sight of the pink hair. This definitely had to be one of my kind. I could barely speak. I was too nervous to. I really need to work on my confidence.

"Malcolm, no need to be shy," Dumbledore assured, "She's a really nice person…after all, she's spending her valuable time here with you."

Again, Tonks waved and smiled. There was a small, mischievous flare in her that was almost impossible not to like.

"I don't bite," she claimed. She held out her hand and said, "It's nice to meet you, Malcolm Hargreaves."

"My friends call me Mal," I spoke up, finding a tiny amount of courage, "You seem friendly enough."

She smiled and Dumbledore said, "I'll leave you to it." With that, he had marched out the door.

"My friends call me Tonks, not Nymphadora. I hate that name," she said. It was rather aggressive and I recoiled at it.

"So, Professor Dumbledore tells me that you're like me; you're a metamorphmagus," she said, leaning in closer.

I nodded.

"He also tells me that you have absolutely no control over your powers."

Again, I nodded, this time my face turning red. I guessed that her chuckle meant that my hair turned to another colour too.

"Don't worry," she said as she walked over to Dumbledore's desk and began fiddling with a few pieces of parchment, "I'll get you on track. Any questions?"

"What's your trick? How do I control my hair?" I asked.

She looked up and replied, "It takes a lot of concentration for the first few months, but after that, you start to get the hang of it. After that, changing becomes as easy as blinking."

She gestured for me to take a seat at a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk as she sat in the headmaster's seat.

Taking it, I asked, "How do I stop my emotions from controlling my hair?"

"It's all practice and gaining control of your powers. Strong emotions show. Even with me. The effects only lessen a little, not a lot," she answered.

"I see," I muttered.

She stood up and said, "Here's what I want you to do. I'm going to make a colour with my hair and I want you to imitate it."

"What? How am I supposed to do that?" I asked in disbelief. It was difficult. Every time I would try to suppress my hair colour, it would take a massive amount of effort. Now, this woman was asking me to change it as passively as breathing.

Her hair shifted to a blue that matched the colour of the sky on a clear day, and I tried my best to match it. I was shaking with concentration.

Looking up, I saw my hair turn a duller version of it. It still seemed to impress her and she immediately turned the colour to an extremely violent violet. This time, I looked at the nearby mirror to see an equally violent shade of violet on my head.

We had kept up this excersise for at least an hour, by which time I was sweating from exhaustion and a small headache had cropped up. Nonetheless, I was laughing. It was fun.

"You're doing fine," she said, "but you need to be able to do this." Suddenly, her hair began shifting colours rapidly, not staying on a particular colour for more than half a second. It was incredible. "I want you to be able to do that for next week. Consider it homework!"

She sat back down at Dumbledore's desk and was shocked when a playful voice said, "What are you doing in my chair?"

It was Dumbledore, standing at the door with a huge grin on his face. Tonks rose and she replied, "I thought it would be cool for once to sit on the other side of the desk for once."

Chuckling merrily, Dumbledore asked, "So, I'm assuming he's progressing well?"

"Oh yeah, I've started him on basic metamorphmagic abilities," she replied.

"BASIC?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, being a metamorphmagus doesn't just mean hair, it could also be skin and changing your features completely. Watch." Suddenly, she had morphed into a tiny old lady, who had long grey hair and wrinkled skin. It was a completely different person.

"Or this," she said as she morphed into an exact copy of Professor Dumbledore. The real Dumbledore had found it amusing and was laughing merrily.

"I'll see you next Friday," she said on her way out, still appearing as Dumbledore.

The door closed behind her.

"Did you find it useful, Malcolm?" Dumbledore asked.

"Absolutely!" My eyes were filled with excitement and I could tell that Dumbledore was pleased to see it. "Thank you, professor."

"Not a problem, young Malcolm, now run along to your house."

* * *

I met with Grayson back at the Ravenclaw common room, who was in the middle of a chess game with Phineas. Both were equally matched in skill, but Grayson seemed to hold the upper hand.

"Where were you?" he asked, barely looking up.

"Metamorphmagus lessons," I replied. I'm sure my hair turned a brilliant shade of yellow on its own.

"Hmmm," Grayson replied as he took out one of Phineas' bishops and put his king in check, "Sounds cool. Oh, by the way, that owl of yours flew in through the window in our dorm and left you a letter."

Standing up to go see what he was talking about, I replied, "Thanks," and made my way down the stairs to my dormitory. As Grayson had said, a letter was waiting for me on my bed, along with Brittle.

I opened it.

_Dear Malcolm,_

_We hope all is well at school and we're proud that you made Ravenclaw. It used to be your father's old house. Anyway, with the Christmas holidays coming up, I have bad news to bring. Owen and your father are both sick with a dreadful flu which has swept through our house._

_I know this is a dreadful request, but I must ask that you and Kimberly stay at school for the holidays; I don't want you two to catch the flu and bring it back to school._

_We both wish you well at school, and hope to see you at another point in time before the school year ends._

_Love, Mum_


	11. Chapter 11

The Christmas Holidays were just the day ahead, and Grayson was packing his things for the trip back to London. I had decided to help him out, trying my best not to show my disappointment. I suspected he could see it, if not on my face then in my hair.

Not that I didn't like the school (I loved it a lot), I was just really excited to see my family again for the holidays. Kimberly was disappointed too, but I suspected that it was because all of her friends were going home for the holidays too. She was stuck with me, alone at Christmas.

Not many others were staying either. Kevin Entwhistle was going away, as was Caitlyn Brookheart.

Phineas was staying behind, mostly because he said that his family wouldn't have him over. He wouldn't explain why, only that his family resented him. It was sad to think about it, and I spent many hours in the common room trying to keep his mind away from it. I even went as far as learning how to learning wizard's chess for him. Of course, he beat me constantly.

Finally, the time had come for the rest of Ravenclaw tower to depart, leaving me with a very depressed Phineas Archibald.

"How about another round of wizard's chess?" I suggested.

He only sank lower into his blue plush chair. "I'll only beat you again."

"Yeah, but I'm getting better," I replied with a weak smile.

He only mumbled and tried to catch a nap in the chair. Aside from me, Phineas and Kimberly, there was only one other Ravenclaw running around the castle, a fifth year girl of whom I hadn't seen in hours.

I decided to practice my abilities in Metamorphmagics further. So far, in the previous weeks, Tonks had taught me how to not only change my hair to different colours, but also to different styles and lengths.

I sat in the chair, rapidly running my hair through the entire spectrum before letting it fall across my shoulders in huge, golden locks.

Looking at the mirror on the far wall, I watched as my hair shifted back shortened to a military buzz cut, before completely disappearing on my head. Then, I shifted it into a large pink mohawk, which stood at least a foot above my head.

Restoring my hair back to normal, I decided to go down to the Great Hall to see what was going on.

Despite the decoration change in the Great Hall, which amazed me, nothing new was going on. In fact, the hall was completely empty of people.

On my way out, I bumped into Madam Hooch, who told me to keep my eyes ahead of me. I'm sure she saw my face and hair blush with embarrassment.

I wandered the castle and it's frozen grounds, continuously taking my blue and white striped scarf off and putting it on. I walked across the quad, up the astronomy tower and back across the hospital wing.

I was just crossing the kitchen areas when I saw Allen walking deeper into the kitchen halls. I just began to follow him, when he disappeared around the corner. Rounding that particular corner, I found myself in a section of the hall that I had never been in, filled with barrel-like doors that lined the walls. There were many, and I believed that it was highly likely that Allen had disappeared behind one of them.

Which one?

I examined each one carefully, finding no difference in design. I decided to test one out, raising my wand and tapping the one closest to the far-left wall.

I regretted my decision almost immediately, because half an hour later, I came trudging into the Ravenclaw common room, thoroughly soaked in vinegar. Phineas laughed immediately when he saw me soaked, and laughed triply as hard when he smelled the scent of vinegar on my robes. At least he wasn't thinking about home anymore.

Kimberly had raced up the dormitory stairs upon hearing the laughter, only to join Phineas at laughing at me.

When all had calmed down (half an hour later), Kimberly said, "Why were you trying to get into the Hufflepuff common room?" she asked.

"That's the Hufflepuff common room?" I said, mostly to myself, "That makes sense now."

"What are you talking about?" Kimberly retorted.

"Uhh, nothing, nevermind," I replied, heading down the stairs to my dormitory, "I have to go change."

Fortunately, classes weren't running, so I could afford to choose something less formal than my vinegar soaked uniform. After dropping my uniform into the laundry and taking a long, hot shower, I changed into a nice pair of jeans and a hoodie. Nothing fancy, just something that'll get me through the day.

The holidays at Hogwarts were rather interesting. Every morning, we'd wake up to a breakfast feast, followed immediately by a chess match between Phineas and myself. After I stormed off, having lost several matches, I would spend some time reading or practicing my metamorphmagic abilities.

Lunch would follow and pretty soon, Phineas, Kimberly and I were standing in Professor Flitwick's office, after playing a school wide game of tag. After that was dinner, followed by further games in the common room before bed. That was pretty much the cycle for a good three days before we came back from the feast, one night, bellies stuffed with tourtière. We crawled into bed, and woke up the next morning to find presents at the ends of our beds.

I was so excited to see this, that I had nearly slapped Phineas awake. He seemed delighted too. Surprised was a better word. He had explained how his parents never got him gifts, or anything meaningful, mostly because they wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Still, it made me wonder why Phineas was so hated at home.

My parents had sent me several books of interest, including a fascinating one called, _Life as a Metamorphmagus_, by Babbly Banktonberner. As a joke, Owen had placed an artist's colour wheel inside the cover, which earned a chuckle from me. Grayson had given me almost an entire crate of Chocolate frogs, and a tiny box of Bertie Bot's Every Flavoured Beans on the top. I received a box of muggle books that Caitlyn thought I would enjoy, including "_The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_." I blushed a deep red and tried to keep it from Phineas' view when I opened the card to find a rose pressed into it.

Phineas had gotten me my own chessboard, which he constantly hovered over me all day long, making sure I would enjoy it. Trust me, I would.

What did I get Phineas? Well, that's an interesting story, and a very bizarre one. He asked for a scarf from each of the four houses of the school. It took a little convincing to Dumbledore after my metamorphmagus lessons, but I had managed it, and now all four scarves were hanging off of each post on his four-poster bed. I suppose next year I'll have to get him the ties.

We ran down to the Christmas feast, and I spotted Kimberly playing with the massive wad of keychains that I had painstakingly put together for her. At least she enjoyed it.

In the Great Hall, I had enjoyed the greatest Christmas feast to date, filled with magical crackers that shot out live mice and funky hats (I got a fez) and an impressive array of food that left me filled to the brim by the end of it. Some of the teachers were a bit tipsy from the Christmas wine and Dumbledore was laughing merrily.

I looked around to see if Allen was here. Sure enough, he wasn't. I was disappointed about that, mostly because I wanted to see how much he liked his gifts.

What did I get him you may ask?

All sorts of things; a book on Potions, which was his favourite subject, a couple of boxes of sweets, and a sneakoscope, a device that'll warn him if there's ever anyone untrustworthy around.


	12. Chapter 12

"Mal!"

"Go away…"

"Mal! Wake up!"

"No. I'm not finished sleeping."

Something slammed into my head, causing me to bolt up immediately, pushing the dark blue covers from my body. Grayson was standing over me, with a textbook that had just come down on my head.

"What the hell was that for?!" I shouted as I rubbed the bump that was starting to form on my head.

"I already tried shaking you. That didn't seem to work," he replied with a sly grin.

Trying my best not to throw a fit, I got up and began to change. "What day is it?" I asked as I pulled some socks on.

"Saturday! You know what that means?" Grayson asked enthusiastically.

I gave him an exhausted look and replied, "Yes, it means that I spent all of last night at a Metamorphmagus lesson. I'm very tired."

I wasn't too surprised when he rolled his eyes and tossed his textbook on his bed. "No! Saturday means we have the day off!"

He began prancing around the dormitory, setting off small bursts of fireworks with the end of his wand, eventually waking up Phineas and Kevin. Both didn't seem too happy to be awake.

"Why's he in such a good mood?" Kevin asked after a large yawn.

I shrugged. Phineas collapsed in a heap on the floor and continued to sleep on the cold stone. Kevin fell back into his bed.

"I guess it's time for breakfast," I yawned to myself.

Grayson had heard and ran over, saying, "Look at the time! It's ten in the morning! Breakfast ended hours ago!"

Sighing, I said, "Then, I'll wait for lunch."

Grayson wasn't listening. He was running off up the stairs and shooting fireworks. What had gotten into him? He was wild. He was hyper. He was going nuts.

All of Ravenclaw tower was giving him the eye. He ran past Kimberly and her friends, turning their quills into flowers. He flew past Caitlyn and Padma, turning their wizard's chessboard into a multi-tiered fountain. He even pulled some books off the shelves and turned them into mice.

I walked over to Kimberly, who bluntly asked, "What's wrong with that weirdo?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, whatever it is, it's frightening me, stop him before I do something about him," she warned, giving me a quick glance at her wand to assure me that she was being serious.

Looking over at Grayson, who was hanging streamers off the ceiling, I shouted, "Grayson! Let's go!"

"Where?" he asked with a massive grin.

"Umm…we're going to see if the kitchen does late breakfasts. Come on!" I lied. I had no intention of going to the kitchens. I was going to find someone who would know what the deal was with him. Hopefully I would find someone who would know how to fix it. Grayson was usually a cheerful person, but not this cheerful. He was quite literally bouncing off the walls.

Grabbing him by the arm, I tugged him out of the common room and down the external stairs. I had made it all the way to the courtyard outside Dumbledore's office before I felt another pair of hands tugging Grayson in the opposite direction.

I looked over to see Caitlyn pulling him in the direction of the clock tower.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing!" she replied.

Looking back into her amber eyes, I replied, "I'm taking him to Dumbledore! He'll know what to do."

Grayson wasn't listening. His head was bolting around in many different directions, quite rapidly. It reminded me of the time that my brother, Owen, had gone wild in a sweetshop and had come back with a sugar high.

Suddenly, she pointed her finger in the direction of the door to Dumbledore's office and shouted, "Well, there he is!"

I turned and saw no one. One glance back at Caitlyn (or rather her absence) told me that she had run off with Grayson.

"Rgh!"

Sighing with frustration, I ran after the sound of her footsteps as she made off towards the clock tower. I caught a glimpse of Grayson's robes as the two of them bolted up the stairs and into the Hospital wing.

I had reached the hospital wing in time to see all of their stunned faces.

"What?" I asked.

They didn't say a word.

Dumbledore was already there, looking down on the three of us as if we had interrupted his chat with Madam Pomfrey, Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall.

"Can I help you?" Madam Pomfrey asked, looking down on our stunned faces. We were all too nervous to speak (well, Caitlyn and I. Grayson was still jumping and tapping like a madman).

After a few moments of stunned and awkward silence, Madam Hooch grew impatient and yelled, "Speak up!"

"Uh, yes, sir…I mean, ma'am! Um, it's Grayson, something's not right about him," I said.

"Mr. Hargreaves, this is the second person that you've pointed out something odd about," McGonagall replied, "Have you even considered that all of this could just be your over active imagination?"

Dumbledore raised his hand, gesturing McGonagall to stop. Walking over to the ever-wild Grayson, he said, "Young Malcolm is right. Something isn't quite right with Mr. Gastan."

"Yeah, if only he was this enthusiastic in my flying lessons!" Hooch grunted. She began to chuckle, but stopped when Professor McGonagall shot her a look.

"What do you suppose is the matter with him, Albus?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, Minerva, however, I think this spell should do the trick," the Headmaster replied, lifting his wand and muttering, "_Finite Incantatem_."

Suddenly, the jumpy Grayson had keeled over and collapsed on the ground. He seemed like he was going to be sick, up until he opened his mouth to start speaking.

"Pol laka rug ta!" he shouted. He glanced down at himself, obviously confused at his own 'words.'

Almost instantly, Madam Pomfrey shouted, "Memory Charm!"

Both she and Dumbledore raised their wands and began muttering incantations under their breath, before Grayson had slumped over.

He looked exhausted, but he was awake. Caitlyn and I eyed him with curiosity.

He glanced up and groaned. "What happened?"

"Someone has inflicted you with a memory charm," Madam Pomfrey explained, "Fortunately it was a very weak one, possibly from another student."

"Why do I feel so awful?" Grayson asked, his brow wrinkled with worry.

"Ah, I must apologize," Dumbledore replied, "That was my doing. The attacker had also given you a Cheering charm, so I had to counteract it with the Spell of Dread. Tell me, Grayson, what was the last thing you remember?"

Grayson groaned again. "It was late last night, and I looked out my window to see a hooded figure crossing the grounds. I went down to find out who it was, but…I remember hearing someone behind me, and when I turned, I was hit by a flash of light. Then, I wound up here. What happened?"

Dumbledore and McGonagall glanced at each other, before he pressed further. "Do you remember anything else?"

"Just…just a tiny flash of white."


	13. Chapter 13

"What could a flash of white be?" Caitlyn asked.

"Beats me," Grayson groaned, lying in his dormitory bed with a damp towel over his head. Madam Pomfrey had let him out of the Hospital Wing early, but the instant he stepped into the Ravenclaw common room, a massive headache shot through him. In short, he was totally immobilized for the rest of the day.

I was sitting on my bed, playing with Phineas' paddleball, which I had picked up without thinking. After a while, I had looked at it for a good long while and wondered how it even ended up in my hand.

After a changing the towel on Grayson's head and telling Professor Flitwick that he wasn't able to attend classes today, Caitlyn and I walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

I wasn't really that hungry, only grabbing a roll off the nearest plate and nibbling at it. Caitlyn, on the other hand, seemed completely knackered and famished from yesterday's adventure. She didn't hesitate to load her plate with enough food to constitute a Full-English breakfast. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and browned toast were but a few of the things she picked up.

I was staring off into space, thinking about what Grayson had said. What could a 'flash of white' be?

Suddenly, I felt a roll hit the side of my head. I looked over to see Caitlyn following through on her throw.

"What was that for?!" I shouted.

"I've been trying to get you to listen for the past twenty seconds and you're just sitting there, not even looking at a thing!"

Scratching my head, I sat down next to her and said, "Sorry, I was just…lost."

She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Where did you go?"

"I'm not even sure," I replied, "This whole business of Grayson's attack has me worried."

* * *

Third period, study hall. On a Wednesday. With the Gryffindors. The librarian, Madam Pince had told us that we should all have something to be studying. Phineas was studying the theory of charms, Caitlyn was doing her homework from potions and Kevin was working away at his star charts from astronomy.

I wasn't so busy. Wedged in between Harry Potter and Kevin, I was trying my best to go through my Defence Against the Dark Arts homework, only, I wasn't actually doing the homework. I was looking through the spell identification charts to find a spell that produced a, 'flash of white light.' I wasn't getting much luck. All of them were sure ways to end Grayson's life, not erase his memory.

Sighing, I slammed my textbook shut and slumped on the desk, which earned me a threatening glance from Madam Pince.

Of course, this attracted the attention of all those around me, including the famous Harry Potter, who looked over and politely whispered, "Bad day?"

I straightened my back and replied, "You could say that."

"I hate to sound nosy, but what's up?" he asked. The rumours were true. Just past the fringes on his head, was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt.

"Just a problem with my friend, that I thought I could read about, but…nothing I can do to fix it."

"You're Hargreaves, right?" he asked. It was quite surprising to hear those words escape his lips; after all, people were usually saying to Harry, "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

I smiled at him and said, "How did you know?"

"You're hair has changed colour fifty times since we started talking," he said, amazed.

"Of course, of course," I muttered to myself. Looking over at him, again, I added, "My friends call me Mal, you're welcome to, too."

Just as a little exclamation to my statement, I shifted my hair colour randomly, which made him laugh a bit. "You look just like that kid in Hufflepuff, now."

My eyebrows raised and I noticed Caitlyn look up from her potions textbook. Trying to hide the look of shock, I laughed and asked, "Which one?"

"I'm not sure what his name is, but I know him from his white hair."

Suddenly, Madam Pince stood up, looked at her timepiece and said, "Third period is over, please head over to lunch, thank you."

Caitlyn looked straight into my eyes, telling me without words that we needed to head to the Ravenclaw common room now. I still wasn't hungry anyway.

Harry shot me a wave and said, "Nice meeting you, I'll see you around."

I nodded with a half smile, before racing off towards the common room with Caitlyn. We reached the base of the tower and raced up the stairs, only to be stopped by the eagle knocker, who asked, "I run over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night I sit not alone. My tongue hangs out, up and to the rear, awaiting to be filled in the morning. What am I?"

Caitlyn and I both glanced at each other. "Got any ideas?" I asked.

She stuttered in panic, saying, "A-a dog?"

The eagle knocker shook its head.

She looked over at me and said, "Why are you always looking at me?"

"Right, uh, is it two dogs?"

Again, the knocker shook its head.

"No?" I asked, scratching my head.

The door opened anyway, and Grayson was standing there, wrapped in a blanket and as pale as a sheet of paper. He looked dreadful, and it was clear that he had quite literally just fallen out of bed.

"What's up?" he asked, his voice sounding nasally and sick, "By the way, the answer was a shoe."

"Grayson? What are you doing up?" Caitlyn asked.

He looked down at his feet, and then all around before saying, "I wanted lunch."

"Maybe we should take you to the Hospital Wing," I suggested.

Almost immediately, he shouted, "No! I'm fine! What's up?"

I turned to Caitlyn immediately and said, "A flash of white, just a tiny one…if it means what I think it means, then it belonged to the attacker."

"Not small to us now, but from the distance he attacked Grayson, it must've appeared tiny," she continued. She knew where I was headed.

"Flash of white, flash would normally mean hair or eyes, but seeing as he was far away, it would rule eyes out immediately," I added.

"Who else, other than you, has white hair in this school?" Caitlyn asked. She already knew the answer, and I was tempted to jokingly say, 'Dumbledore.'

I was stopped when Grayson held his arms up and shouted, "What's going on?!"

We both looked at him and Caitlyn said, "Grayson, we know who attacked you. It was Allen."

There was a brief look of surprise that flashed on Grayson's face, before it changed immediately to white-hot anger. Still wrapped in the blue and white blanket, he shouted, "That white-haired bastard!"

**Next chapter, the confrontation begins! **

**~Kincubba**


	14. Chapter 14

Well, for the first time in my long stay, here at Hogwarts Castle, I am sitting in detention. With who? With the grouchy Professor Snape no less.

How did I end up here? Well, I blame Tonks and Grayson equally. She was already in the thick of teaching me how to change my facial appearance. She was showing me all the different kinds of people she could morph into, and gave me a 'passing grade' when I pulled off a very convincing Cornelius Fudge.

The next day, Grayson and I were sitting in our potions class, waiting for Professor Snape to arrive. To amuse those at my table, I was pulling off impressions of every one of them, including Grayson, Phineas and Caitlyn. Then, Grayson began pushing me to do an impression of Professor Snape. I shook my head, and gently said, "Naw."

Then, they all began asking me to do it. Several minutes later, and my head had the long, greasy black hair and hooked nose that belonged to Professor Snape.

They were all laughing like crazy, so much so that Grayson had fallen off his chair. I was laughing along with the others, only to be surprised when their laughter ceased.

"What?" I had asked.

Caitlyn looked frightened. Grayson was stifling a laugh and Phineas was trying to act like he was focusing on his work.

Turning my head, my hooked nose came into contact with the hooked nose of the real Professor Snape's. He was most displeased, giving me a detention and taking fifty points from Ravenclaw, for my 'insolence.'

It was only a joke, but somehow, that joke had landed me in deep trouble.

So, here I was, sitting in Snape's classroom, staring at a wall as he marked papers at the front. I had asked him what I was going to do for my detention.

"You are going to sit there and stay quiet," his deep voice rumbled. He had then moved to the front of the classroom and sat down.

I resorted to following the lines of the walls out of boredom, occasionally shifting my eye colour without his notice.

I shifted in my chair. I scratched my nails against the desk. I ran through the entire colour spectrum with my hair. I tapped my shoe a bit. Snape was not looking up or responding to anything I was doing. Two hours of this had passed and it was beginning to seem like torture.

Fortunately, salvation had arrived, in the tiny form of Professor Flitwick, who walked in and said, "Severus! I need to take Mr. Hargreaves with me."

Snape looked up and set his quill down, replying, "He still owes me another hour."

"Ah, I'm sure he's learned his lesson by now, Severus. I'll just be taking him now," Flitwick said, pulling me by the sleeve and marching me without another word to Snape.

Once we were out of earshot, Flitwick pulled me down to his level and said, "It was actually quite funny. Once the other teachers had heard, some of us could barely stop laughing," he squeaked with a giggle.

"Thanks for saving me," I replied, timidly.

He was pulling me towards his office, and my eyes were wandering around this part of the castle, which I had never seen. Flitwick stopped at a door and began rummaging through his keys to unlock it. Turning, I saw Allen, standing at a doorway with Professor Quirrell.

Allen was just standing there, with a blank expression on his face. Quirrell was speaking in hushed tones, barely audible, but I was able to pick up parts of the conversation.

"I'm going to do it tonight. I need you to stand watch at the entrance to the stone, to make sure that no one after Potter gets into the trapdoor. Do I make myself clear?" Quirrell instructed.

Allen slowly nodded and walked off back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

I raised my eyebrow. This was odd. I was all set to run off back to the Ravenclaw common room to tell Grayson, but then I remembered that Flitwick was still here.

He had opened the door and led me into his office, sitting me down and saying, "So, Mr. Gastan tells me that you can play the violin!"

I smiled sheepishly. Indeed, to relieve the stresses of all this studying for exams, I had been taking my violin out quite often to play. One night, I had a huge group of people gather in my dormitory to listen. I knew that word of this would reach a teacher's ears eventually, but why was Flitwick taking such an interest in it?

"Yes," I confirmed.

"I am wondering why you haven't signed up for any music courses here," he asked.

I was sort of taken aback, replying, "I didn't know there were any."

"Yes, I run a choir throughout the year, and orchestras for several events. You'd be great!"

"Okay, I'll give it a shot," I said, trying my best to excuse myself politely, "I'm sorry, Professor, I have to go back to the dormitory now, I have some…work to catch up on."

"Of course, however, I expect to see you in one of my music courses at some point during your tenure here, Mr. Hargreaves," Flitwick said with a wide grin.

"Right!" I shouted on my way out the door. I ran at top speed back to the Ravenclaw common room. Whatever Allen and Quirrell were up to, it wasn't good.

* * *

I had arrived in the Ravenclaw common room just in time. Night was setting in and Grayson was the only one still in the common room. Apparently, I had just stopped him as he was going off to bed.

"What is it?" he asked, as I jumped in front of the dormitory entrance.

"Whatever plan Allen and Quirrell have cooked up all year, it is going to reach its climax right now! We have to stop them!"

"Come on, Mal, it's before curfew, we'd be caught and expelled," Grayson said, his eyes drooping.

He turned to march down the stairs, but I grabbed his sleeve, "You said it yourself the other day that you were close to killing him. You knew he was up to something, I mean, why else would he attack you for following a person into the forest?"

Grayson's light blue eyes stared directly into mine, as he tried to decide whether I was making a good point.

After a moment, he sighed, "Fine, but if we get caught, you're taking the blame here!"

"I promise to accept full responsibility for anything if we're caught," I said, placing my hand over my heart and my other next to my head, as if I was taking an oath.

A moment later, the two of us were sneaking through the darkened corridors of the second floor, trying our best to navigate towards the grand staircase, all the while dodging any teachers who were on patrol.

Eventually, we made it to the moving staircases and navigated our way up towards the third floor corridor. Grayson pushed the door open to find the hall lit with dozens of large, stone torches. There, standing amidst the flickering orange light in the hall, was Allen, staring straight ahead of him in his pyjamas. His wand was drawn, and prepared for battle.


	15. Chapter 15

"Allen?"

He was just standing there, watching us with a blank expression on his face. His name had left my lips before I had even realized I was saying them. I had blown our cover, but it didn't matter; Allen was prepared to strike at us any way.

In fact, it became apparent when a curse whizzed by my head and took out a chunk of the wall behind me.

I ducked behind one of the large, stone torches, and Grayson rushed forward, throwing up a shield charm with the wave of his wand.

"How are you doing that?" I asked, shouting over the sound of curses flying, "We haven't learned that yet!"

Throwing up another shield, Grayson glanced back and replied, "Don't you remember? I told you I could throw shields up when I was young!"

Grayson's boastful story echoed in my brain, and I couldn't help but smile.

Allen was throwing off vicious curses at us, some that I recognized as being able to land us both in the Hospital wing for many months. Glancing in Allen's direction, I noted that he was beginning to look worn out. Whatever these curses were, they were causing considerable strain on his body.

"He's under someone's spell!" Grayson shouted as he barely managed to throw up a shield in time.

"How can you tell?"

"I told you, I read all those books in my family library, a lot of them, I shouldn't have read, but I did!" he replied, with a hint of agitation, "One of them talked about how to recognize someone who is under a curse, and I can tell, Allen is definitely under someone's curse!"

"Alright, alright. What do we do about it?" I asked, ducking as another blast chipped out a piece of the torch I was hiding behind.

"We need to go on the offensive, as much as I just love sitting here blocking spells…" he continued, "Know any good spells?"

"Just one, and it might break the curse," I said. I got ready to stand up.

Leaping out of my cover, I shouted, "_Finite Incantatem_!"

My spell struck Allen, who was too busy firing curses to notice that I had even popped out of my cover. It was in those split seconds before he hit the ground that I noticed a flare of awareness hit his face, before he passed out.

Grayson panted, trying to catch his breath from setting each shield up. Crawling out of my hiding place, I moved closer towards Allen's fallen form.

"Is he?" Grayson asked.

I shook my head. "No, just unconscious. The shock of the curse leaving his body must've been too great for him. My question is, what curse?"

"It could've been the Imperius curse," Grayson suggested, standing over Allen.

"What's that one?"

"The curse that gives the caster full control over another person's mind. I've read about it, although, something didn't quite seem right about it."

I looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, something just didn't seem the same between this curse and the Imperius curse," Grayson said as he shook his head.

Suddenly, the wooden door that Allen had been guarding burst open, and Hermione Granger rushed out, dragging an unconscious Ron Weasley behind her.

"Mal? Grayson? What are you two doing out here?" she asked. Then, she noticed Allen, knocked out cold on the stone floor. "What happened to him?"

"I'd ask you the same question," Grayson replied, gesturing to the battered, bruised and unconscious form of Ron.

She quickly composed herself and said, "It's a long story and we don't have time, Harry is down there right now. He's in danger!"

"Yes, we know, Professor Quirrell," Grayson said.

Hermione looked at him in disbelief, "Quirrell? No, you idiot, it's Snape!"

"Snape?" Grayson shot back, "How could Snape be down there when he's…over there…"

True to Grayson's word, Professor Snape was striding down the halls towards them. "What are all of you doing up at this hour?" he questioned. He seemed furious.

"Professor?" Hermione said, shocked to see him.

"Hermione, do you see that we aren't lying?" I asked.

She nodded.

"I'm still waiting for an answer," Snape demanded.

"Professor, Quirrell is down in that chamber, right now," Hermione emphasized, "Harry is probably facing him as we speak. He told me to get Dumbledore over here right away!"

Snape's expression changed instantly. "That fool," he muttered. Turning to Hermione he ordered, "Go to the owlery and send a letter off to Dumbledore, immediately."

She nodded, "That's what I've been told."

Snape turned and looked at us. "You two, get Rhodes and Weasley to the hospital wing. Once your tasks have been complete, I want all three of you to wait in Dumbledore's office. We will be with you shortly."

Hermione turned on her heel and ran off at full speed for the owlery. Snape charged through the door and down through the trapdoor without another word. Picking up Allen and Ron by the legs, we began to drag them to the hospital wing, where we could already hear the grumpy responses of Madam Pomfrey, who we would have to wake up in the middle of the night.


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the long wait, stuff is getting really busy at school now! Anyways, after this, one more chapter is left. If you liked this story, remember that a second one is on the way, and as always, feel free to review! **

I was now alone in Dumlbedore's office, without Grayson, Hermione or even Tonks to make me feel any better. Once Dumbledore had arrived, he had ordered Grayson and Hermione to leave, asking for only me to stay behind.

I was unnerved. Was I to be expelled? Was my entire investigation a waste of my time? I shook in my shoes and my feet had grown cold.

Dumbledore sat down in his seat, looking at me right in the eye and smiled warmly. "Do not be afraid, Mr. Hargreaves," he said, "Green doesn't suit you." He gestured to my hair, which had indeed turned a sickly green.

In response, I tried my best to calm myself a bit, reverting the colour back to a more 'normal' shade of brown.

"You should not fear this meeting, Mr. Hargreaves, after all, your actions were commendable," Dumbledore continued. I looked up, and he smiled playfully. My hair must've changed colour again in surprise.

"Oh, yes. You saved Allen, and by extension, you might've also saved Harry. I think it is most noble. It is these actions that tell me a great deal about your character, Mr. Hargreaves, and I believe that you are perfect for the task."

I looked up and asked, "What task?"

"As you may have known, something is not entirely right about Allen."

I nodded.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and began pacing the room, as he continued, "To put it in simpler terms, Allen is an experiment. When Lord Voldemort was at the height of his power, he controlled everything. The country was brought to its knees. Only one place stood in Voldemort's way from total control over the country, and that was this very castle."

Dumbledore stopped and looked around, taking in the impressive stonework of his office. "As ignorant as this seems, I was the only one that Voldemort feared."

"Sir, what does this have to do with Allen?" I asked, sounding my best not to sound impatient.

Dumbledore turned, facing me and said, "If Voldemort could not take Hogwarts by open conflict with me, then he had to pursue different options."

I glanced at Dumbledore and deduced what he was trying to tell me. "If he couldn't take Hogwarts from without, he had to take it from within."

Dumbledore advanced on me, raising his index finger and smiling, "Precisely! What more does that tell you?"

Startled, I responded, "It tells me that Allen was Voldemort's solution."

"Yes!" Dumbledore shouted, "That's it! Allen, at the time, was the seed set by Voldemort to bring about the domination of Hogwarts. You see, several hundred years ago, the great Merlin discovered a strange magical ritual that would allow someone to take control of another far beyond the capabilities of the Imperius curse. In order to keep it away from foolish hands, he hid the secret away."

Travelling back to his desk, Dumbledore sat on the edge of it as he continued his explanation. "For reasons unknown, the ritual responds quite violently to those of a certain age. Voldemort could not use it on any Hogwarts student at the time, because it would kill them, so he chose an age group that would not be affected."

"We were younger though, when Voldemort was killed, all of use were just infants," I reminded.

"Yes, for some reason, the ritual only reacts violently with people aged in their early to late teenaged years, infants are unaffected, as are adults. Voldemort killed Allen's parents and took him. He performed the ritual on him, and now, Allen can be placed under the control of Voldemort, whenever he chooses."

I quivered in my shoes as a sudden realization hit me. "So, Professor Quirrell was…"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Malcolm, Professor Quirrell was Voldemort, or rather, a vessel for Voldemort, in which his soul could control him. Quirrell was a very intelligent man, it's a shame that his being had to end so terribly."

"There is something you must understand, Malcolm. This curse is not like any ordinary Imperius curse. Unlike the Imperius curse, whatever this one is, gives Voldemort the ability to turn Allen into his most loyal servant with just a simple thought."

"Is that why his hair is-"

"White? Yes. That was how we were able to identify him as a victim of the ritual's bogus abilities. It's a side affect of the ritual."

I stood from my chair, noticing for the first time how stressed Dumbledore was beginning to look. I had never seen him this way. To be honest, I preferred to see him the way he was normally. Happy. Knowledgeable. Carefree. To me, right now, he looked uncertain, bothered, and slightly worried. "Sir, what does this have to do with me?"

Dumbledore looked up, as if a new hope had been raised. "You are the only cure that can save Allen."

"Is he going to die?"

"If we don't save him. It is a very certain fact that in the near future, Voldermort will return, but you must keep this to yourself. When he does, I can almost guarantee that Voldemort will regain his hold over him. You must also note that, despite this inevitability, I have hatched a thought as to how to stop Voldemort, but my plan has one flaw…one flaw that you must correct. You see, another strange side-affect of this ritual is that if the caster of the ritual were to die, the victim would also die too."

"Then, that means…"

"Yes, we have to save him. He was brought into all of this against his will and he has no rights to have to die because of it."

"What can be done?" I asked, trying my best to sound confident.

Dumbledore smiled, "To break the ritual, I will need to research it more carefully, but I do know that Allen will need someone really close to him to be the one to break the curse."

"Why me?"

"Isn't it obvious? You portray the level of loyalty often found in Hufflepuffs. You conducted your own investigation, and ignored my orders to save him. To me, there is no greater show of one's loyalties then that. Do not fret however, your career at Hogwarts has only begun…and I believe that your Ravenclaw traits are about to present themselves."

I blushed in surprise, and I'm sure my hair did too. "Thank you, sir."

"Do not worry, Malcolm, from what I gather, there is a way to end Allen's suffering." We both smiled, before he said, "Now, I have some important work to do, why don't you go down and rest up with Grayson?"

I nodded and walked out of the office, stopping at the threshold of the door as a sudden thought hit me. Turning, I asked, "Sir? Allen isn't truly a Hufflepuff, is he? I would've thought that he was more of a Slytherin. Did you work out some sort of deal with the sorting hat, to place him as far away from Slytherin house as possible, to keep him away from anything of Voldemort's, that was…left behind?"

Sitting at his desk, Dumbledore smiled, saying simply, "It's as I said. You're Ravenclaw traits are beginning to show."


End file.
